Love Inspired Suspense April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 by Laura Scott (free e reader .TXT) 📕

house, he noted the increasingly run-down conditions of the community as they neared the address. The neighborhood had obviously not been on the receiving end of city funds intended for the gentrification that was sweeping through much of the area. Overgrown grass and cars set up on blocks in front yards composed much of the landscaping. Every once in a while, a pot of flowers sat on a stoop, a valiant effort to bring some color to the dreariness of the neighborhood.

Graffiti warred with gang symbols on walls and garage doors. More often than not, the gang symbols won, a silent testament that violence had more than a toehold in the community.

He kept his weapon close at hand.

“What happened to Pope’s wife and son that they had to move here?” Liam wondered aloud, though he could guess the answer.

“Fallout from the bus accident.”

“Of course.”

The Pope home wasn’t the worst on the street, but it came close.

“I don’t mind saying that I’m glad we’re both carrying,” Liam said, narrowed gaze taking in the surroundings.

The house bearing the address of Pope’s wife and son hunched over, as though it had been beaten down by despair. Like the rest of the neighborhood, the dwelling might have been attractive at one time. The simple design with large windows and a deeply pitched roof hinted at good bones, but it had peeling paint, missing shingles and cracked windows.

Kudzu grew with wild abandon around the cement foundation, while ivy made its way up the crumbling brick exterior and air-potato vines dripped from the porch eves.

Liam gave a firm rap on the door.

A woman who looked like she could be anywhere between fifty and eighty greeted them with an unsmiling mouth. Hair that might once have been light brown was a dull gray, and it framed a thin face tight with harshly carved lines that spoke of a joyless existence.

Like the house, Mrs. Pope hunched over, as if she, too, had been beaten up by life. She held the door open a few grudging inches and lifted a scowling face at them.

“I’m not buying nothing, so don’t waste your breath trying to sell me something I don’t need. I don’t have money for useless stuff that just takes up space.”

“That’s good,” Liam said, “because we’re not selling anything.” He quickly introduced himself and Paige before the woman could slam the door in their faces and explained about the accidents that had brought them there. “We’re hoping you can help us make sense of what’s happening,” he concluded.

“Come on in, if you have to.”

As though in afterthought, she pointed to a couple of chairs. “Sit down if you’ve a mind to. But don’t be expecting me to entertain you or nothing. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

She pointed to the young man slouched against the wall. “That’s my son, Cal Jr.” His posture shouted boredom, but the expression in his eyes was one of sharp interest.

To prove her point, she picked up a newspaper and cracked it open. She squinted at the paper—not surprising since the room seemed shrouded in darkness.

Liam glanced at the two windows and saw veils of vines obscuring much of the light. He shifted his gaze to the one piece in the room that spoke of happier times: a photograph of a school class with printing announcing it was Mrs. Fletcher’s sixth grade.

“Mrs. Pope, if you could just give us a few minutes of your time,” Liam began.

“I don’t know why you’re here. Me and my boy don’t have nothing to do with them accidents.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” he said in a placating manner.

She lifted her head and glared at him. “So why are you here if you don’t think we had anything to do with what’s happening? And it’s Hawkins now. I dropped the Pope a long time ago. I don’t need the bad history it carried. I have enough problems without carrying around the misery of the past.”

“Mrs. Hawkins,” Paige said, trying again, “do you have any idea of who might want the survivors of that day dead? You have a unique perspective, being the wife of the driver and not a member of any of the families who lost someone.”

The woman snapped the paper shut and leaned in, eyes hot with resentment. There was an eagerness to her, like she had been waiting for the right audience upon which to air her grievances. “Who’d want those kids dead? You mean ’sides me?”

“What do you mean by that?” Liam asked.

“I mean that accident destroyed our lives. It tore our family apart and left us broke and homeless. Me, Cal Jr. and Calvin himself. He might as well have died, too, for all the good his being alive did us. Him passing away last year was a blessing. It surely was. Least he had a bit of life insurance for Cal Jr.”

“Five families lost a child,” Liam said, striving for neutral. “Surely you haven’t suffered more than they have.” What kind of woman compared herself to those families who endured such a horrific event as losing a beloved child?

The older woman sneered at Liam and then Paige. “You think you’re so high and mighty, Mr. Liam McKenzie and Ms. Paige Walker.” She fixed her gaze on Paige. “I remember you, all right. You didn’t belong in high school any more than a one-eyed goat did. My Calvin came home and laughed at you, trying to fit in with all those kids so much older than yourself. He called you a poseur. What good did it do you anyway?”

Liam wanted to defend Paige from the attack, but he didn’t know what to say. He glanced at her, saw that she was holding herself calmly under the attack.

Mrs. Hawkins continued with her tirade, shaking her finger with such vigor that her whole body quivered. “I know you lost a brother, one of those glory hounds on the football team, full of themselves. But you didn’t lose your whole life. That’s what happened